Drabbles ficlets and thoughts
by daydreamer-cloudwatcher
Summary: A collection of many with just a scene for each.
1. Sasuke's dream

**Sasuke's Dream:  
**I collapse to the ground, both mine own and my brother's blood dripping from my body in the slow tune of victory. A smile, the first real smile in _so long_, plays around my lips. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I have done it.  
_Uchiha Itachi is dead_.  
I don't know how I won but I know that Itachi was stronger than the little display he just put on. I let out a sigh of relief, finally at peace.  
My dreams are finally starting to come true. Though for some reason this thought pulls at my heart. This isn't how I imagined this day.  
I can sense team Taka standing behind me, but soon return to my earlier train of thought. This isn't how I _planned_ this day. When I was young, still a part of team seven, I thought that on the day my dreams started to become reality, I'd be standing next to my comrades, smiling, well I suppose I am, just the wrong comrades and a lone smile.  
On this day I would make their dreams start to become realities too. I had even decided on how. I would kiss Sakura, something I had known she wanted more than anything. I would tell Naruto how strong I thought he was, how he'd make an excellent Hokage if the day came, no, _when_ it came. I knew this would give him a confidence boost; keep him pursuing his dream and to never give up on it with new energy. And a compliment on your strength from your rival is something only the most powerful of people receive.  
Yes, this is not how I had wanted this day to be. However I thought I had gotten rid of that idea when I left Konoha with Orochimaru. I was wrong, evidently. Now I am stuck with these people. I wanted this day to be as I had imagined back then, when I was happy. I stood up, grabbing Karin, pressing my lips forcefully to hers. I broke away, throwing her face aside; turning to leave.  
"You disgust me." Well at least it was closer to what I had envisioned that just the empty loneliness and regret.


	2. Purely for ironies sake

**Purely for ironies sake:**

Spring was coming to an end, the fresh, crisp taste of it still lingered in the air but the sounds of renewal had recently ceased. The village was a lush green with the blurred line of a heat haze dancing across its horizon, but the colour the flowers brought was fading out in the stifling heat.

A young boy lay back on top of a hill, the village spread out below him. Behind him stood tall a cherry tree, it had been late to bloom and now the last of its flowers had fallen to the ground around him. One intact Sakura bloom was cupped gently in his hand, having its petals plucked one by lonely one merely for the irony of it.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

Some might see beauty in the scene, like a painting, one young attractive blond boy surrounded by beautiful vibrant flowers. Others, admittedly, might scrape away the top layer and see the depression of the stripped stalks scattered in a pile beside him. A select few would form a third party and see the boy himself. So bright and bold and so clearly _there_ that few noticed his presence at all in the gorgeous landscape but as just another feature - he was much more than a feature; he was the whole message.

She had said that she loved him. To his face; smiling. But she loved the other guy. And he _hated_ liars. More so he hated those that pitied him. He'd had it up to here with pity. First such an awful lack of it and then, suddenly, drowned by it. But for those special to him, that he thought had cared, to feel _sorry_ for _him_? Then to lie in the hopes of making him feel _better_? Well, she'd done it and he didn't hate it; he didn't even loath it. So much worse than that: he was indifferent.

Uncaring about friend: now that made him sad.

So the question was barely whether or not she loved him, but if, as he'd always believed, he still felt that way about her.

"I love her. I love her not." And all the petals had fallen.

**A/N: This must be the most edited piece of fiction ever written. It was 333 words and I've rewritten all of them a number of times, changed punctuation, added in enter spaces. It took ten times as long to edit as it did to actually write. I feel like Tony Stark with his big holographic computer, picking bits out, moving around, slotting bits in. Except less arrogant and less male and less…Iron Man.**

**Please tell me what you think, the idea of this has been in my phone for ages.**


End file.
